


Grateful

by also_bughead



Category: Archie Comics, Riverdale (TV 2017)
Genre: F/M, Family, Family Fluff, Fluff, Thanksgiving, Thanksgiving Dinner, bughead - Freeform, embarrassed juggie
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-23
Updated: 2017-11-23
Packaged: 2019-02-05 21:46:55
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,320
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12803058
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/also_bughead/pseuds/also_bughead
Summary: In which Jughead takes Betty to visit his family in Toledo for Thanksgiving. Based on an OTP prompt list by otp-imagines-cult.tumblr.com "35. 'oh mY GOD ARE THESE YOUR BABY PICTURES???'"





	Grateful

Betty fiddled nervously at the hem of her periwinkle sweater and ran a hand through her hair to smooth any flyaway’s, desperate to qualm the knots in her stomach. Her beanie-bearing boyfriend just smiled, taking the hand that wasn’t carrying Alice’s peach pie into his and squeezing it as they approached the doorway of the small house and she almost immediately felt calmer at his touch.

It was Thanksgiving, and Jughead’s mother had invited him to join the Toledo family gathering; it was the first he’d spent with her since she’d left. When he’d asked if he could bring his blond-haired girlfriend, Gladys Jones all but jumped at the idea.

Betty hadn’t  _really_  met her boyfriend’s mother before (she was around when they were kids, but at least she hadn’t officially, as Jughead’s girlfriend), and if she was being honest, she wasn’t too sure if she liked the woman. She’d left her son to fend for himself with an alcoholic father and a gang breathing down his neck. But Jughead was excited to see his mom and little sister, and seeing him excited was enough to make her excited, too.

Jughead knocked on the door twice, and was almost at once opened by a preteen girl whose blue eyes mirrored Jughead’s.

“JUGGIE!” she nearly squealed, throwing her arms around him, and Jughead dropped Betty’s hand as he picked her up, twirling her around in his arms before setting her back to her feet.

“God, I’ve missed you, kid.”

“I’ve missed you, too,” she beamed, and again Betty saw her boyfriend in his little sister.

“Jellybe -” the girl gave him a murderous look and he corrected himself, “JB, this is Betty, my girlfriend. Betty this is my little sister JB.”

“Hi, JB,” Betty smiled, shaking her hand. “It’s great to meet you. Jug talks about you all the time.”

“He talks about you a lot, too,” Betty looked up at the sound of the new voice, her eyes meeting with another pair of blue ones set in a kind face. It’d been so long since she’d seen Gladys; she, Archie and Jughead were all childhood friends so she was around, but she’d left before they even finished elementary school. The woman smiled warmly, extending an arm out. Betty thought she was going to shake her hand and was surprised when the middle-aged woman pulled her into a tight hug and Betty let out a light laugh of shock at the sudden affectionate gesture.

“It’s great to see you, Mrs. Jones,” the blonde said when she was released.

“Please, call me Gladys.”

“Okay, Gladys,” Betty lifted up the tin pie pan, “my mother believes you should never show up empty-handed, so she helped me bake this. It’s an old family recipe, famous Cooper peach pie.”

“Sounds like something Alice would say. Thank-you Betty,” Gladys smiled, taking the dessert from her. “Well, come on in, you two, it’s cold out.”

Jughead took Betty’s hand in his again, leading her through the threshold into the small living room. It was tidy and comfortable looking, and smelt slightly of chewing tobacco (Jughead had informed her that his grandfather favored the stuff). It was also already decked out for Christmas despite Thanksgiving not even passing yet, with multicolored lights strewn about and an ornamented tree in the center of the room. This affinity for the holiday was also relayed to her by her boyfriend, relenting that it was his mother’s favorite time of the year. He feigned disdain, but Betty loved the festive décor, Christmas being her favorite holiday, too.

“Mama,” Gladys called out into the kitchen, and an elderly woman peered over the island that separated the kitchen from the living room, “Mom, Jug’s here.”

The woman’s face lit up with a bright smile as she shuffled around the island, coming up her arms around him. “Oh, Forsythe. I’ve missed you, boy.”

Jughead crinkled his nose at the use of his birth name but hugged his grandmother back earnestly. “I’ve missed you, too, Grams.”

“You’ve gone and gotten so tall,” she shook her head, placing her hands on his cheeks. “Although I shouldn’t be surprised. Your mother was always tall for her age. And FP’s a giant.”

“Grams, this is my girlfriend, Betty. Betty, this is my grandmother.” Jughead gestured between them and Betty smiled at the woman, who also surprised her with a hug.

Gee, for someone who was supposed to be a loner-weirdo, his mother’s side of the family sure was touchy-feely. Not that she minded; Betty was much more comfortable with public displays of affection than Jughead was.

It was a pleasant afternoon. Betty met more of her boyfriend’s extended family, which included two uncles, an aunt and six cousins. Jughead’s grandmother was an excellent cook and everyone seemed to love the peach pie.

After the meal, everyone gathered in the living room in front of the TV to watch football and then the Macy’s Thanksgiving Day parade (the latter of which bore much more interest for Betty). Somehow, the young couple had managed to snag a spot on the couch, where Jughead had his arm thrown lazily around Betty’s shoulders and she snuggled into his side, bare feet curled up under her, ballet flats forgotten on the carpet.

“Betty, I want to show you something,” Gladys smiled, sitting down beside the pair after the parade had ended, bearing a leather-bound blue binder. Betty sat up, her interests perked and Jughead raised an eyebrow at his mother suspiciously.

The moment Gladys opened the binder, Betty’s eyes were immediately met with an image of a blue-eyed, dark-haired infant peeking out from under a crown beanie that was too big on him.

“Oh my God, Juggie, are these your baby pictures?!” the blonde swooned, causing Jughead to recoil back into the couch cushions, hands covering his face to hide a blush.

“They sure are,” his mother answered for him, turning the page to reveal yet another adorable photo, this one of Jughead on FP’s chest, both of them asleep on an armchair.

Betty and Gladys flipped through the pages, each picture cuter than the last. There were photos of Jughead dressed up as a lion on his first Halloween, Jughead covered in blue icing from his first birthday cake. There were also photos of Jughead as he grew older; playing with plastic dinosaurs and cars, building pillow forts with his cousin, Souphead (this family had some weird nicknames, Betty’d come to learn), pictures of him in the tree house with Archie. Her personal favorite was a picture of five-year-old Jughead sitting in an uncomfortable hospital chair, cradling a newborn Jellybean in his arms, eyes lit up like a kid on Christmas morning.

There was even a photograph of the three of them on their first day of kindergarten as they waited at the bus stop. Betty said she’d remembered that day and Gladys making them all line up and smile for the picture before the bus got there. “You three were always inseparable. The Three Musketeers, that’s what we called you.” Even though she didn’t admit it, you could hear the regret in her voice; see it in her eyes. If she could go back, she probably wouldn’t have left; or, at least she would’ve taken Jughead with her.

“Okay. I think that’s enough embarrassing me for one day,” Jughead pleaded, closing the scrapbook before Gladys could get to the mortifying “naked in the bathtub” classics.

“What?” Betty protested, turning toward him. “They’re not embarrassing. There adorable.” She mussed the hair that had fallen out of his beanie, and he rolled his eyes at her.

She giggled at his expression, leaning forward and giving him a quick peck on the lips, and he mused about how up on his luck he’d gotten in the last year.

For the first time in a long, long time, he had a Thanksgiving to really be grateful for.


End file.
